


Something More

by post_tenebras_lux



Category: One Tree Hill
Genre: Also it should not have takent two seasons for Haley to be permitted to love being a singer, Attempted Sexual Assault, Braley is the superior friendship and it shows, Depression, Developing Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Growing Pains, Honestly it's a whole AU since Naley has never happened, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, Mentioned suicide, Minor Character Death, Oblivious Haley, One-sided Naley, Possessive Behavior, Season 3 AU, Self-Esteem Issues, The music business is corrupt, This writer has no regrets, Unrequited Love, and Haley learns it the hard way, but Haley James sure does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/post_tenebras_lux/pseuds/post_tenebras_lux
Summary: Season 3 AU. Naley has never happened.When Haley James returns from tour with The Wreckers, she is wholly unprepared for the deterioration of her friendships with both Nathan Scott and Peyton Sawyer. She's even more unprepared for the arrival of a ghost from Lucas' past that makes her pulse quicken and her heart feel things she's thought herself unworthy of. But what secrets haunt this mysterious stranger that makes Haley's knees weak? And how long can she deny the calling in her heart for both him and the musical world she left behind?





	1. New...Girl Things and Such

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FeralG4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralG4/gifts).



> I was given this story idea back in September or October, and it's honestly only because inspiration has finally struck that I have begun to work on it. 
> 
> @FeralG4, thank you sooooo much for thinking me good enough to give an idea I'm absolutely certain you were skilled enough to do!! You're amazing and the fact that you love Sansa Stark as I do just makes me respect you more <3 I hope this turns out to your liking.

“I don’t know, Tutor Girl, maybe they both just need their space,” Brooke opines. Haley wonders if space is the last thing she should be giving any of her friends, given that space is the very reason why both Nathan and Peyton are still upset with her.

Let it have been the year before and Haley would have taken anything Brooke Davis had to say with a grain of salt. To the surprise of absolutely no one, the two natural brunettes had never been much of friends, barely even acquaintances, and Haley had not even really liked the head cheerleader. She’d entertained her for the sake of her burgeoning friendship with Peyton, been amused faintly by her and even felt invigorated by the girl’s boundless display of energy because the one thing Haley hadn’t been able to take away from her was that Brooke is vivacious, and that that is catching. She thought Brooke more than a slut, but definitely that she didn’t care about school, that she had no plans other than to live off of her family’s money and was clearly on another planet from Haley.

All of that was from before though, when Haley was still ickle Haley James from the tutoring center who forgot to take her glasses off after tutoring sessions and kept her dark hair in a low ponytail, and carried far more books in her tiny hands than she could realistically handle. When she was still navigating being surprising friends with an antagonistic Nathan Scott and an equally over-protective, and slightly self-righteous Lucas Scott. When Brooke and Peyton were on top of the world, best friends until the end of their days and Lucas Scott had never come between them and Haley didn’t have to side-eye her own best friend for doing such. Now, though, things are different.

Haley isn’t geeky - well, Brooke would probably argue that statement down. She is geeky, but she is also geeky and can play the guitar and piano, and currently returned after touring with Chris Keller for the rest of junior year and most of the summer. She’s returned - more blonde in her hair than Haley from last year would have been comfortable with and more skin on display than she’s ever had before - and neither Peyton nor Nathan want anything to do with her.

And it _hurts_.

“I know,” Haley moans pitifully, ignoring the eyes that follow her as she follows Brooke down Tree Hill High’s main school hall. “You’re right, you are - I just…” A burst of air blows past Haley’s lips. “I’m not used to it, okay? You didn’t see the way Nathan looked at me and Peyton literally told me I was dead to her - ”

“To be fair, Peyton has told a lot of people that they’re dead to her,” Brooke interjects. _Unhelpful_.

“That’s besides the point, Brooke.”

“The point, Tutor Girl, is that you left.” Warm brown eyes meet apologetic hazel, and Brooke reaches over to wrap an arm around the girl’s petite shoulders. It never fails to thrill the brunette to have someone shorter than herself, Haley knows, though Lucas argues that their heights doesn’t differ too much. Just the thought of the tall blonde male brings twin stains of pink to Brooke’s cheeks, which Haley makes sure to stare at the brunette knowingly over, but Brooke shakes herself of her Lucas thoughts to focus on the conversation at hand. “Listen, I am the last person to judge you for doing what’s right for you, but at the end of the day, you did leave and it hurt them. It hurt Lucas, too.”

Brooke has tried to not throw it in Haley’s face and for that, Haley appreciates both her and the friendship they’ve been developing within the last year, specifically within the last six months. It had shocked the cheerleader into a stupor when Nathan revealed that Haley had left; her sister having told him upon a late visit to their family home only to see that a lot of Haley’s clothes had been packed away. But Brooke had not arrived to that hotel with Lucas with judgement shining bright in her eyes. In fact, at one point, when they had managed a few minutes alone, she’d even went so far as to say that she was proud of her. Brooke didn’t like Chris Keller much or at all, but she had been pretty supportive of Haley’s decision to go and follow her dreams. The real shock value then, wasn’t that Brooke didn’t seem to judge or be mad at her for running off, but that _Nathan_ had been and _still_ was, and that Brooke seemed to know more than she was telling Haley.

Brooke and Nathan are good at acting as if they’re two ships in the night, passing each other by, rarely if ever walking the very same line but definitely almost parallel to the other in such a way that their similarities still wind up shocking Haley from time to time. Haley knows that Brooke is Peyton’s best friend and that Nathan was Peyton’s boyfriend for a long time, but she also learned from both brunettes that Nathan had known Brooke longer, that Brooke spent more of her childhood with Nathan when her parents had attempted to be active in her life, at least to put on a charade of good parenting. The thought of them still makes Haley seethe. The point is that something clouds over Brooke’s hazel eyes and Haley watches her, knowing that Brooke is keeping something from her.

“You’ve just got to deal with it and hope that they both get their heads out of their asses,” Brooke says and Haley snorts gracelessly, failing to hide her grin. Brooke’s own is unrepentant. “Look, even if no one else tells you, I am proud of you. Nobody else was brave enough to say, ‘fuck all my friends,’ and go become a rockstar in the middle of junior year - ”

“Brooke - ”

“ - like, I’m legit kinda walking the halls with a celebrity right now,” Brooke finally insists, as if realizing a truth Haley would not entertain. She wasn’t a celebrity, nowhere near. But that doesn’t seem to matter because Brooke pulls out her phone and demands, “Take a picture with me.”

And even as Haley lets out what is supposed to sound like an annoyed, “Brooke,” she cannot deny the way amusement and fondness tug at the corners of her lips, which Brooke is quick to excitedly point out as they enter the outside courtyard where classmates from both their year and junior year are both seated and standing around, mindless chattering flowing with the light breeze of a summer that doesn’t seem to want to go away again. It makes Haley think of Florida, the pressing heat only abated by the crisp autumn air that threatens on the horizon, a bright sun that plays hide and seek with the clouds, occasionally coming out to scald them all with its penetrating wink before slipping behind white fluffiness. Now, more than ever, Haley is grateful that she had the good sense to tie her hair up into a messy bun, the only hair grazing her neck and the sides of her face being wispy strands of honey blonde that have disobeyed her request for conformity.

“Oh yeah, now that I’m thinking of it,” Brooke drags Haley from her thoughts and Haley returns her gaze to the brunette, who has now linked arms with her. Haley shifts so that the textbook and notebook she has are cradled in the crook of her elbow. “Do you know the new guy Lucas said was starting today?”

“No,” Haley replies with a quick shake of her head. Haley and Lucas had met when Haley was thirteen and really wanted a job, wanting money for herself and not wanting to press upon her parents with all of the other children they’d had to worry about. They’d been inseparable since - barring, of course, Haley running away to be a rockstar - but there had been a time when there had been a Lucas without Haley, and all Haley knows there was a guy named Nas and that all of Lucas’ other friends knew of him. “I think he and Lucas grew up together, but I don’t think I ever saw him.”

“Well, Bevin told me that Lisa said that he was super duper delicious and check this,” Brooke seemed to smile conspiratorially at Haley, as if she was dishing out some ultra exclusive detail that either Haley just had to know or Brooke just had to share, “he’s a genius at math.” Haley rolls her eyes.

“At least, that’s one less person that’ll come running to the tutoring center.” Her comment only serves to make Brooke glare at her, but it’s half-hearted so Haley beams at her.

“But Haley, you should’ve heard her!” Brooke insisted. “There was a lot of tall-dark-and-handsome tossed in there, and he apparently has this whole super duper mysterious thing going on - ”

“I think this is the most I’ve heard you say super duper in all the time that I’ve known you.” This time, Brooke’s glare was genuine.

“ - and there are tattoos, like, a lot of tattoos,” Brooke continues on and Haley chuckles at the girl’s eagerness, knowing damn well that Brooke has liked a lot of things since returning from California, but whether the girl chooses to acknowledge or not, she hasn’t touched. Haley knows she hasn’t, knows that Brooke has flirted her pretty little head off but has not hooked up with so much as one guy since coming back to Tree Hill. And Haley knows she has a certain blonde male best friend to thank for that. “You know how I feel about tattoos, Haley!”

“Yes, I do,” she tells the girl before cheekily slipping in, “I also know how much you also like book-savvy, super tall blue-eyed blondes who happen to work in auto shops.” Brooke takes a long time to meet Haley’s gaze, but when she does, her hazel eyes are glittering with both the threat of revenge and the pleasure that comes with reminding of her of Lucas. The blush has returned. Haley laughs and the cheerleader-turned-designer bumps her hip, and Haley pretends to not catch the giggle on her lips.

“Anyway, maybe he won’t necessarily be for me,” Brooke decides after awhile and Haley can see the table Lucas, Skillz, and Mouth are occupying, noting the extra person but too focused on Brooke to pay attention. “You’re still regrettably single, despite my best efforts, I must say - ”

“Your best - Brooke, please!”

“Who knows? Maybe it’s your time to hop on the love train.” Haley scoffs, a dubious expression on her face.

“The love train?” She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. Besides, what kind of best friend would you be if you didn’t try to hook Peyton up with the new guy first?”

“The New McHottie’s a dreamboat, for sure, but Peyton’s still hung up on another dreamboat who also happens to be toting a cradle,” Brooke states and Haley softens, recalling December and Peyton’s obvious, growing attachment to Jake Jagelski and his little Jenny.

“I’m still really sorry it didn’t work out like she wanted to,” she says. Brooke nods empathetically.

“It would probably mean more if you said it to her face.”

“And I would if it didn’t feel like Peyton would run me through with a pair of scissors if I even _breathed_ in her direction,” Haley counters after she snorts at Brooke’s attempts to reconcile the two. Haley has been trying and she’s decided that she’ll continue to try until her patience is officially worn thin, but that does not mean she’s immune to the evident threat implicit in Peyton’s very aura. Brooke seems to think on this for a few seconds and they approach the boys’ table; they’ve chosen one on the far outskirts of the courtyard, much closer to the parking lot.

“I actually think she’s done that before.”

“Tigger, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Actually, I’m almost one-hundred percent sure now.”

_“Brooke!”_

“Sure about what?” Lucas asks and Haley turns to him, fully prepared to explain to him the ridiculousness of his girlfriend-not-girlfriend, or whatever the hell Brooke and Lucas refer to one another as at this point, but then she falters.

Haley didn’t doubt Brooke or Bevin, or even Lisa despite Lisa having proven twice before that she has questionable tastes, when Brooke called Nas - and Haley can only assume that the guy seated beside Lucas is Nas because she knows everyone else at the table - a dreamboat. Haley is loathe to adhere to the terminology. At the same time, and disturbingly so, she can’t help but think it to be, well, _accurate_. She almost doesn’t want to look at Brooke to see the viciously triumphant gleam in her eyes.

It’s _his_ eyes that really makes the breath catch in her throat. Nas is of a muscular build and she assumes, especially given that he seems to be even taller than Lucas while seated, that he must be a skyscraper of some sort when he stands. But there’s smooth olive skin beneath the thin black henley that covers his upper body and torso, the cotton clothing item damn near too small and absolutely clinging to him, almost like second skin and Haley has to chide herself for feeling _genuinely offended_ that the table obstructs her view of what she is pretty sure is a yummy abdomen. _Yummy_ , she has to ask her brain, but the other side of herself is too busy fanning herself to pay her any mind. _Now I know I’ve spent too much time with Brooke_.

Nas’ eyes are two deep forests, a muted green shade that puts Peyton’s to shame, twin flecks of lush golden brown towards the iris that reflect near molten gold as he sits with the sun beaming down on him from behind, his dark hair a perfect compliment to both his gorgeous eyes and skin, faint hints of gold along the tips of the short, tousled locks and -

“Oh, nothing serious,” Brooke exclaims and Haley blinks, feeling her face grow warm. She cannot think to look at Brooke because she feels the brunette eyeing her, can see her smile widening without having to look at the brown-haired beauty. Haley also cannot seem to tear her gaze away from the new guy her best friend seems quite familiar with either. “Just...random...new…” At this, Haley’s gaze does flit to Brooke’s, a warning in her eyes, but the brunette’s lips are not smiling. Her eyes, however, are a completely different story as she hip-checks Haley, continuing, “...girl things and such.”

“I almost don’t wanna know,” Mouth opines and Haley is absolutely grateful for the statement because it elicits a round of agreement from the guys. All except Nas and Haley can feel his stare still, feel it like the softest of caresses against her cheeks and she shivers despite the ever-present heat.

“Well, that’s just ‘cause you’re no fun.” Brooke retorts and plops herself beside Lucas, managing to catch the popcorn Mouth shoots at her in her mouth after he squawks in indignation at her insult. Haley feels her mouth curve gently at the playfulness, at Skillz and Lucas’ enthusiasm at Brooke’s cheekiness, at the brunette’s own vivacity. But she also feels those eyes and the way the continued attention washes over, suffusing her in a heat that she knows has very little to do with the weather.

“Anyway,” Lucas brings her focus to him now, gesturing between Nas and the two girls. “This is my old friend Nas I was telling you both about. Obviously, Nas, this is Brooke.” Brooke sends the guy a mildly sultry look that makes Haley stop short, feeling mildly affronted and not knowing the reason why.

“Hey, handsome.” Brooke’s pur does not help.

“And this - ” Lucas speaks at the same time as Brooke and then stops himself short, casting the brunette a blank stare that apparently is enough to make Brooke blanch slightly, a sheepish grin forming on her lips as she ducks her head. Haley still does not understand this dance Lucas and Brooke are partaking in, and she’s sure she never will be able to understand it, but whatever it is does not deter either’s jealousies. And the very fact that Brooke shifted in her seat, brushing her knee against Lucas’, only made Haley chuckle at her friends’ silly antics, her attention returning to Nas.

“And I’m Haley, please ignore her.” She adds, conspiratorially, with the full knowledge that Brooke is going to hit her, “We all do.”

Nas’ smile is a slow and small thing, this barely discernible twitch of his kissable - and why _that_ was a description her mind used, Haley doesn’t want to know - lips that Haley does not mean to track, genuine and charming. Haley has the distinct impression that not a lot of people get this look from him. She hates how it makes her heart flutter. But more importantly, Haley’s gaze is once more dragged to his eyes and she’s enraptured by the heavily-lidded shape of them, the heaviness of his brow, the thick dark tufts of hair above them that have a wicked arch just off the center that is far too unique not to pay attention to. Brooke’s light smack to her bare arm is nonexistent to her. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rich, smooth and Haley luxuriates in it, “Nice to meet you, Haley James. My boy Lucas here has told me all about you.”

Lucas says something, Haley knows he does, but she can hear nothing past the blood rushing in her ears, and to her face, the pounding of blood in her head sounding very much like _Nas, Nas, Nas_ …

“Yeah, Haley’s our resident rockstar,” Brooke tells Nas, shaking Haley from her reverie and she tears her gaze from the male’s, choosing to peer at Brooke’s profile, taking in much needed air. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath. Lucas snorts and Haley rolls her eyes.

“Again, ignore her, she’s our resident drama queen.” Brooke scoffs.

“I am not against turning your nickname into Tutor Bitch,” her roommate warns. Haley leans past Brooke to steal a handful of Lucas’ friends; clearly the boys had snuck off campus.

“At least it’ll actually sound somewhat original now,” she retorts, channeling as much of Peyton as she could. It works because she can see Lucas shaking his head in amusement and hear Mouth chortling. More importantly, in retaliation, Brooke ignores Lucas insistent “Hey, wait!” in favor of tossing a fry at Haley’s face. Luckily, there’s no greasy residence as it falls, so Haley only pops one of the ones she stole into her mouth, chewing with a triumphant grin.

“I dunno, man,” Skillz drawls, a thoughtful grin on his handsome deep brown face. “Tutor Bitch sounds crazy powerful. I’d be scared of her.”

“As you should,” Haley laments.

“Yeah, she’ll fail you with just one look,” Lucas speaks up and Haley turns to him a slitted stare that only makes her best friend preen. A deep, rumbly sound emanates across the table from her and Haley’s gaze turns back to Nas. She’s known he was there the whole time, felt him, but once more, her eyes are locked on his, on the gold melting into deep green, on the scar on his right eyebrow.

“Well, it’s real nice to meet all of you,” he says. Haley’s heart flutters once more. She wonders if that’s its way of saying the feeling is mutual.


	2. When I Was Younger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of school has not been what Haley hoped for and what Nathan has to say only makes matters worse. Luckily, Haley has a surprising savior and Lucas is understanding. Brooke is just Brooke.

“Brooke...what are you doing?” Haley has to ask.

For the first time in a long time, Haley is grateful that both school is over and that she does not have to work at the cafe this afternoon as she is not feeling either. At some point, she knows she’s going to have to deal with the fact that Nathan’s flock of ditzy dames actually still exist and still don’t like her, that they actually dislike her even more now that he even seems to detest her very existence. Which, well, it’s great.

And by great, Haley _definitely_ means horrible.

Luckily, Brooke seems to be the greatest form of distraction as Haley’s mind is brought back from the fact that words seem to fail her, an empty page on her notepad at her feet and her guitar in her hands. Her fingers have taken up a lazy strumming of the strings that sound like nothing more than Haley playing with the instrument like it is a toy.

"These, my dear roommate, are hair scrunchies circa nineteen ninety-five, and they are what is going to make this little living arrangement bearable." Brooke explains and Haley shoves her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, eyeing Brooke wearily.

"Brooke, I know you never liked my hair, but it can’t be that serious.”

“No, well,” Brooke stops herself short, seems to think on it, and narrowly dodges the pillow Haley tosses her way when she admits, “True.”

Snickering, the brunette continues, prancing about with scrunchies of different colors. “But no, it’s not that. When either of us has a boy over, these scrunchies will be our first line of defense.” She holds the specific color up as she explains its purpose, suggestive eyebrow wiggles and shimmying of her shoulders that have Haley chuckling.

“Observe, red scrunchie means 'occupied,' some serious action going on in here. The yellow scrunchie means we're just making out, but one or more of us may be topless." Leave it to Brooke, clad only in a fuzzy pink robe - though the loose way she secured the fuzzy belt leaves just enough of an opening that Haley can see the yellow boy shorts and matching cami underneath - to have created a system only she’s going to need them to adhere to.

Haley wonders if she should have ever told Brooke that Lucas was stopping by.

“And the black one?” Haley inquires, a blank expression on her face.

“You’re going to have to leave the apartment.” Laughter bubbles up within her and burst pasts her lips without her permission. Brooke’s smile is infectious.

“Well, I’m not sure I can handle thinking of you and Lucas hooking up in the same room I am sleeping in,” Haley drawls, setting her guitar aside and sitting up on the sofa. “Not exactly a light sleeper, Brooke.” Brooke’s grin is dirty, shameless.

“You were the other night.” The brunette cannot avoid the pillow that hits her square in the face this time.

“Brooke, I swear to God…”

“Kidding, kidding,” Brooke sings, swiping silky dark brown hair over her shoulder. Haley finds it almost difficult to believe her. Making sure that the skepticism is written all over her face, Haley rises to cross the room into the kitchen to retrieve the water bottle she’d placed in the freezer. Ice cold water isn’t exactly the best drink to partake in when it comes to singing, but she can’t scrounge up any more lyrics to send to Chris as per their deal for extra money anyway, let alone actually singing anything for herself.

“Still, I don’t want wanna know what you and the guy I see as a brother are getting up to, Brooke. I think I’ve seen enough since moving in here.”

“Lucas and or others,” Brooke pipes up. Haley whirls around to give Brooke a rather pointed stare. Brooke keeps saying others, but it still stands to reason that Haley hasn’t actually seen any of the “others.”

“Whatever you say, Brooke.” The brunette makes a face and Haley has half the mind to flip her the bird and really blow the girl’s mind, but all she does is unscrew the bottle cap and takes a few refreshing gulps of liquid. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she closes the fridge door, sighing. “Look, it’s a really good system and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s worked for you in the past, Brooke. I just...I think we both know I’m not gonna be needing any scrunchies any time soon.” Brooke gapes at her.

“Are you being serious right now?” Brooke demands and Haley glances around the room as if there was anyone else her roommate could be talking to.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, Brooke.”

“So, you’re gonna seriously pretend like you and McHottie didn’t have a moment today?” Haley rolls her eyes, unable to stop the way her cheeks begin to burn at the memory of Ikenasio Amasio-Douglas and how she very much liked the way his name rolled off her tongue. Brooke sees right through her and pointedly stares. “I mean, seriously, Tutor Girl. I was ready to call the fire department to our table.” Haley snorts.

“I’m pretty sure you can blame the sun, Brooke, you don’t need to be so dramatic.”

“Are you kidding me?” Brooke cries and Haley knows the girl is being exaggerated on purpose, and obligingly chortles, though she’s certain she would have done so regardless. She returns to her seat as Brooke goes on, “Haley, even I felt like I was on fire from the way he was staring at you.”

“He wasn’t…” Haley is quite aware of how awkward and unconvincing she sounds, belly fluttering with warmth as she recalls his eyes and his voice, _Nas Nas Nas_ the only song her brain seems willing to think of. “I’m pretty sure he was staring at everyone.” Thankfully, there’s a knock at their apartment door and Brooke is the one off to answer it, but that doesn’t stop her from declaring in a sing-songy manner:

“That sounds a lot like denial!” Haley rolls her eyes and tucks her feet up under herself, setting her bottle down on the low table and then pushing her guitar out of her way just as Brooke swings the door open.

“Denial about what?” Lucas inquires, squinted eyes turned to her and head tilted curiously.

“Just your boy Nas having a serious eye crush on Tutor Girl over there earlier,” Brooke replies.

“Ignore her,” Haley says at the exact same time. Lucas glances at Brooke first, who nods quite eagerly with her teeth digging into her lower lip, and then at Haley who peers at him over her shoulder, blank-faced. Chuckling, he shakes his head and steps further into the apartment.

“I did not know that.” Haley can’t decipher what that sound in his voice is just yet, but it is peculiar enough for her to note it as more than just amused. Brooke places a comforting hand on his shoulder, fingertips caressing more than Haley thinks it should if the touch is supposed to appear platonic. Then again, everything about their arrangement is confusing and nowhere near platonic, or casual.

“You’re a boy, Lucas,” the designer proclaims and Haley laughs at the offended look on the blonde male’s face. “Of course, you didn’t.”

“Hardy har har,” he gripes. “You’re so not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Brooke corrects him and skips off, yelling, “I’m ordering pizza!” over her shoulder as she disappears to the back bedroom. Haley is still giggling when Lucas officially plops himself onto the sofa beside her, jumping up for a quick second when he realizes that he’s sat on her forgotten notepad.

“What’s this?”

“Songs I’ll never sing,” she tells him and Lucas tilts his head wonderingly. Haley looks away from him to avoid his pity. “I mean, maybe not never, but I just...I don’t know. I just haven’t really liked any of them for myself and since Chris has been paying for some of the ones I know for a fact aren’t really for me, I try to keep writing.” She shrugs. “Not like I’ve been doing much good writing as of lately.” Lucas peers at the notepad curiously before flipping through the pages.

“What are you - Haley?” He exclaims, stopping on the pages that clearly have completed songs on them. He glances at her, puzzled, before returning his gaze to his current page, eyes scanning over the words. A minute later and that puzzled look is turned back to her. “Haley, this is great.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not for me,” she replies and takes the notepad from him, tucking a stray blonde strand behind her small ear. She sighs again and slumps down in the sofa, tossing the notepad onto the low table before her. “I can write all day for everyone else, but as soon as I even consider even one song for myself, all my ideas go right out the window.”

“Haley…”

“I’ve been in this...weird headspace for two months, Luke.” He leans back in the sofa too, mirroring her and Haley leans over to lay her head against Lucas’ shoulder, sighing again. “It got so bad that I couldn’t even do the last show before I left.”

Haley doesn’t point out that it all began right after she returned backstage to see Nathan gone, the note on her light-studded vanity the only evidence of his having been there. It had read: “I hope you’re happy with your choice.” Haley hadn’t been able to fully grasp the depth of her shock, her hurt and her guilt, until she was on stage with Chris, practically choking on tears as the band picked up on _When the Stars Go Blue_ , voice cracking when she belted. Chris had given her a worried glance, but she couldn’t see him past the stage light, past the blur from her tears.

Lucas does not speak for a few minutes, just lets her rest on him for a little bit until he gestures to the notebook she’d left forgotten on the low table. “And what’s that?” Haley lets out a disgusted noise from the back of her throat, unable to stare at the stupid pile of papers on top of a stupid book that a stupid girl once wrote in.

“The list of predictions, dreams, and wishes I made over the years,” she answers, sitting up then. She looks back at Lucas, declaring, “You know, I really think I was a much better person back then.” Lucas peers at her lostly.

“You’re the same person you’ve always been,” he replies and upon her scoff of disbelief, adds, “You are, Hales.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.” Lucas leans closer, determination so poignant Haley cannot fathom breaking the eye contact. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Hales. You came back home and there’s...there’s definitely been _something_ different about you.”

She looks away at that, at the low table, at the notepad of songs she can’t muster up the heart to sing so she gives it to someone else who can, and startles when Lucas grasps one of her hands, summoning her gaze once more. “But you’re still _you_. You’re still the same short little bookworm who has absolutely no balance and has probably broken as many dishes as she’s served.” She snorts.

“Thanks a lot, Luke.” He beams at her before gesturing to the notebook again.

“That’s not a list of who you are. It’s a list of…” Lucas does that squinty eye thing he does when he’s trying to choose the right words and it makes Haley smile. “...who you’re gonna be. That’s still up to you and you know what? You did become something you wanted to be: a singer. And you were great at it.” Haley rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, and look what good that’s done me,” she bitterly says. “Two of my friends hate me and everyone’s looking at me like I’m the second coming of the plague. Even you were mad at me.”

“Hales…” Lucas sighs.

Haley feels a touch guilty for fixing some of her ire on him. Lucas has forgiven her, she knows that. She also knows that he wasn’t even really as mad at her as he was saddened by the reality that she had left, that she had not even said goodbye. It doesn’t take away from the fact that she had felt just as alone. He gives her hand a squeeze and Haley peers into his apologetic eyes, softening. “Look, I’m not gonna lie to you and say I wasn't upset when I found out you left. But you leaving to go on tour did not make you a bad person. It wasn’t selfish and it wasn’t a bad decision. Did it feel like one?”

Haley cannot explain why tears begin to prick at the corners of her eyes, why she wants to curl up into her best friend’s arms and sob out all the tears she’d buried deep in herself over the last few months, so she shakes her head slowly, whispering, “Not at first.” Lucas sighs again, heavier this time.

“I was so proud of you.” He tells her this suddenly, after a few beats have passed and then seems so saddened by the surprise her face shows. “I was. I used to look on YouTube to see if anyone posted videos of the shows and Haley, you looked - I’ve never seen you look so _happy_ before.”

A small smile tugs at the left side of Lucas’ mouth, almost like it happened without any control on his part, and there’s such fondness in his eyes that Haley’s chest goes warm, and her eyes sting even more. “You were so nervous that night at Tric, when you performed at the talent show. We almost didn’t even hear you until you got a little louder. But during that show, Hales, you were...you looked so _free_ , like you belonged there.” Lucas pauses and laughs a little. “I mean, other than that one time you totally tripped on stage - ” Haley chokes on a laugh, equally mortified and thrilled. She still cannot believe she almost busted her ass all because she hadn’t seen the cord to Dustin’s amplifier.

“I can’t believe you saw that…”

“I did and I’ve never been more proud to have a klutzy rockstar of a best friend,” Lucas declares and Haley cannot help herself. She leans over to wrap her free arm around Lucas’ shoulder before untangling their hands so that she can do the same with her other arm, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you.” Lucas only rubs her back gently, squeezing her just as fiercely and they both pretend that she doesn’t sniffle, that the tears don’t leak out of her eyes and roll down her face until they drop onto his shoulder. Luckily, he’s wearing a dark shirt, so Lucas says nothing about it, not even when they pull away and Haley’s swiping at her eyes. In fact, Lucas goes so far as to help her, thumb swiping at a tear she knows is stuck in her lashes and she smiles at him, gratefully. He only smiles back.

“You literally made one of those dreams you wrote come true, Hales,” he goes on to say and Haley’s smile widens until she feels her teeth are showing. “And if it made you happy, then that’s all that matters. Nathan and Peyton - they’re only secondary and if they can’t understand that, then I hate to say it, but it’s _their_ problem. Only you get to decide what your dreams are going to be and who _you_ are gonna be. You’re allowed to grow, even if it means that everyone else doesn’t like how the process makes them feel.”

Haley thinks about the girl who used to sit in her bedroom, peering over textbooks and the like, pen in hand a small notepad she’d shown no one else that had lyrics of songs she always hid in her bedside dresser, thinking it a distant dream, a false reality she conjures up in her solitude when her only destiny lay within the confines of school books and education. She feels Lucas watching her as he asks, “What do you want for yourself this year?”

“Honestly, to get through this year without everyone whispering about me every time I walk down the hall,” she states. Lucas does not say anything to that, so Haley glances back at him. He’s staring right back at her and the knowing look in his eyes leaves her unable to fight the smile that tugs at her lips. She tries to suppress it anyway, surprised at the giddiness she feels in her chest.

“And?”

Luckily, there’s a knock on the door that demands Haley’s attention and she jumps up, letting her mind drift to the pounding of her heart as the stage hand directs the fierce, bright light on her, nearly blinding her. The way the microphone fit in her hand, the butterflies in her belly - the feeling of _right_ that thrums in her veins just as powerfully as the bass does, the way the stage vibrates beneath her feet. She tosses a grin over her shoulder to a still knowing Lucas with a stupid grin on his own face and jokes, “You know the rules, Scott. Can’t tell each other til’ next year...just in case it comes true.”

Lucas only laughs, grabs one of the stray pillows on the floor nearby, and hurls it at her. She’s almost unable to duck it, giggling.

“Brooke, I think your pizza’s here,” she calls to the back just as she reaches the door. But then she swings it open and her smile freezes on her face. Her whole body freezes and her eyes widen before she realizes she’s squeezing the doorknob so tightly, her knuckles are turning white. Haley swallows the happiness Lucas just invoked, brown eyes trained on a familiar set of blues before exhaling the name, something like lead dropping in the pit of her stomach.

“Nathan.”

 

* * *

 

 

Haley offers to pick up two two-liter sodas from the nearby liquor store on her way back home when she goes out, grabbing a hold of her wallet and her apartment key, not bothering to grab a hoodie to go over the halter top she wore to school. Unlike Brooke, she sees no need to change after school, but perhaps that has more to do with the fact that Brooke had both an SGA meeting and cheer practice after school to run. Besides, Tree Hill has not reached the point where the evenings are chilled to the point that Haley needs a sweater or jacket just yet, and so she takes advantage of it.

Nathan does not say anything as they depart from the apartment complex. The only thing he does to even acknowledge her presence is accomodate her shorter strides and it almost reminds Haley of before, back when he’d spot her coming from the tutoring center and would walk with her out of school, offering rides to the cafe or even to their spot to work on homework or simply hang out. The memory of their burgeoning friendship sends a pang to Haley’s chest, and she glances at Nathan to see if remembrance has struck him too, if perhaps that will influence the direction of the conversation she knows they need to have.

If he does notice her staring, Nathan does not acknowledge her.

It is not until they get on a semi busy street that Nathan deigns to speak. The liquor store is at a corner on Ralph Street. There are a few businesses on both sides of the street, a restaurant diagonally across from it. A few of the businesses on the ground floor, Haley knows, have apartments upstairs. Brooke would rather wander around here during the day when there are less guys that linger, less leery eyes and raunchy comments. Haley does too, but she also likes the little old lady who runs the liquor store. Plus, Tree Hill has had their fair share of crime and plain old tomfoolery - some from boys Haley goes to school with, others who simply have family members in the surrounding area - but it hasn’t been enough to make her see her hometown as less than safe.

“Listen, Haley,” Nathan begins and Haley glances up at the side of his face. Nathan has a light complexion that darkens only slightly beneath the sun’s rays, and in the weeks that he was away at camp, he’s developed just a barely there tan that Haley can admit is flattering to the ocean blue of his eyes and the dark hair that sits atop his head. Once, Haley would have classified the color as black, but she’s got the glints of brown in the sunlight.  “I’ve been thinking about us and I know I’ve been...well, ignoring you. That’s not exactly fair.”

It is only then that Nathan does look her dead in the eyes and Haley cannot mask her surprise at the admission. She ponders the right thing to say, desperate to keep this appreciated, tentative peace, lips parted in consternation before she shakes herself of her awkwardness.

“No...no, we, uh...we didn’t exactly end things on great terms,” she concedes, shoving her hands into the pockets of her fitted dark wash jeans. “So, I get it, I do. I’m really glad you came to talk to me, Nathan. I really appreciate it.” He nods and then does not speak for awhile. They near the liquor store, its pale blue light casting a hair-raising glow on the trio of guys hanging out outside of it, cigarette smoke drifting around and from them.

“If I go on pretending like you don’t exist, like we were never even friends, then I’m not being honest with myself,” Nathan continues. Haley cannot tell if he notices or even cares about the guys, but she’s grateful he doesn’t pull away when she steps just slightly closer to him. He glances down at her, her head only reaching just above his shoulders. “We had some great times, Haley. I can’t let myself forget that.” Haley’s smile is small, even as she feels that lead in her stomach make its presence known.

“I can’t either.” Nathan only glances at the guys and they nod at them both, the redhead’s stare lingering below Haley’s chin and she bristles, hurrying inside of the liquor store and grateful that the door shuts resolutely behind them. Taking a deep breath, Haley peers up at him. “Nathan, if it ever felt like I was being unfair to you or that I didn’t care about you, you have to know that that’s not what I was trying to do.”

The soda section is off to the left and close to the checkout counter, which Haley is grateful for. She rushes to the cheapest ones and observes the flavors, trying to decide which ones Brooke will like most. Haley herself prefers juice, but she promised soda and soda is what she’ll buy. Haley does not notice that Nathan does not follow her to that section.

Again, he doesn’t say anything for a minute and it is only when his words register that Haley glances back at him. “I do know that. It’s just...it’s just that there’s a difference between what you try to do and what you end up doing.” Haley stops short, hand on a bottle of strawberry flavored soda. When she looks at Nathan, his hands are also in his pockets and his gaze is stormy, the blue depths tumultuous, at best. He looks away briefly before meeting her gaze again, “We were friends, Haley - ”

“We were more than that.”

Haley does not understand the brief flash of hurt that comes and goes on his face nor his frown, but it makes that lead substance inside of her even heavier, weighs down on her chest and makes her take a struggling breath. She also cannot decipher what that other emotion in his eyes are; her mind briefly recalls that wistful look on Brooke’s face once before when they talked about the star athlete, the way the girl had had to bite her lip as if to stop herself from saying something more.

Shaking her head of the annoyance at what she now knows is the two of them keeping secrets from her, Haley takes a few steps away from the stand of sodas towards Nathan, sincerity in her voice as she clarifies, “Nathan, you were one of my best friends.” She has no idea why Nathan flinches at that, but it hurts nonetheless. She soldiers on. “You were and I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t…”

“It’s…” Nathan falters. “...it’s not that.”

“Then tell me what it is, so I can fix it, Nathan,” she pleads. He averts his gaze and she sighs, loudly. “We used to talk about everything, things that I didn’t even talk about with Lucas...like my singing and your Dad and everything else in between.” Nathan still does not look at her. “I know that you were just looking out for me with everything with Chris and I didn’t mean to get so defensive and keep secrets. I just didn’t wanna let you down.”

“But you did.” He says it curtly, jaw clenched. It’s then that he looks at her again and his eyes are hardened. Haley can feel Mrs. Barnes peering out from the murky glass of the closed-off register, knows her eyes are darting between the two of them and the awareness of that - of the fact that they are having this conversation in a public place, even with only one person as their audience - brings an embarrassed flush to her face.

“Then let me make it up to you. Let me be there when I wasn’t before.”

“I can’t.” Haley flinches at that and Nathan’s face softens for a fraction of a second, guilt stirs in his eyes, but then he’s back to firm shoulders and an even harder gaze. “I just....whatever it is that you want me to be, I...I can’t be that for you, Haley.” His handsome face twists up as he adds, “I can’t be your friend.”

It feels stupid for tears to well up in her eyes, but Haley feels like she’s being transported back in time. She’s back in middle school when everyone is deciding upon the cliques and labels they’re going to assign themselves and others, and Sarah Brokenborough is telling her that she can’t be seen with someone like Haley, sneering down her nose at Haley in her hand-me-down jeans from Taylor and loose t-shirt, the girl’s bouncy strawberry blonde curls swishing behind her as she prances off with girls Haley doesn’t even think go to Tree Hill High anymore, all clad in too-short skirts and more mascara than they honestly need, a whole other world from Haley.

It’s been a long time since she’s thought of Sarah and the rejection she’d cried over in the bathroom before learning to either be invisible or meeting the derision with blank-faced indifference, but it seems to sting all over again, adding to the way a knot seems to form in her gut.

“Because I went on tour?” She demands, hating how her voice sounds garbled and watery, hates how she has to blink a few times to see Nathan clearly. “Because I didn’t tell you I recorded a song with Chris, knowing you were already upset that I was even _talking_ to him? Knowing you’d be even madder if you knew about it?” Nathan shrugs.

“It is what it is,” he tells her and Haley scoffs, shaking her head as she looks away from him. The glass is still blurry and Haley can only see that Mrs. Barnes is there, but not a clear image of her. The woman’s sympathy is evident, nonetheless. She hears Nathan sigh before he says, “Look, I just wanted to tell you where my mind is - ”

“With absolutely no consideration to mine,” she interjects.

“It is is what it is.” Nathan repeats and Haley almost wishes she had something to throw at him. She shakes her head again, hating that she agreed to walk with him, hating that they didn’t just have this conversation in her apartment so she can shove pizza in her mouth and curl up on her bed.

“Well,” she begins, running her hands over her face, carelessly wiping any trace of tears that have leaked out, “then there’s nothing else I need to say. You should just go home.” Nathan sighs again.

“It wouldn’t be right to just leave you, Haley.” She glimpses him gesturing to the sodas beside her.”Just...just go ahead and get what you came for and I’ll walk you back.” She snorts bitterly.

“Don’t bother. I don’t feel like being escorted by someone who wants me to beg for forgiveness for doing the thing that _I’ve_ always wanted to do just because it came as an inconvenience to him.” Haley watches Nathan open his mouth to interject, to correct her as he sees fit, but her eyes narrow on the athletic male as she cuts him off, “I’m sorry, Nathan. I’m sorry that things weren’t working out for you as well when I was gone. I’m sorry that it felt like I abandoned you when you needed me. However, I will not apologize for going off to do the thing that made me happy, especially not when _you knew_ how happy it made me.”

“That’s not fair - ”

“Go.”

“We’re going the same way,” he growls, notably frustrated but Haley turns her back on him, snatching up the strawberry flavored soda she’s already decided to nab for Brooke.

“Just go!” A few seconds go by without any movement and Haley glances behind her, bitterly snapping, “It’s not like you’re not used to walking away from me. You’ve been doing it since I came back, so do what you’re good at and leave, Nathan.” He lets out another frustrated noise, but Haley does not look at him. Her gaze resolutely is fixed on the soda display.

It takes a few heartbeats, but Haley flinches when the door finally does slam both open and shut. It is only then that she takes the breath she’d been holding.

“Boyfriend?” Mrs. Barnes inquires when Haley finally feels ready enough to complete her transaction. By the time she comes to the counter, she has two bottles of soda, some pastry snacks, and an individual size pint of mint chocolate-chip ice cream she knows for a fact that she’s not going to share with Brooke. Brooke doesn’t like it anyway, but Haley knows she was the one who ate the last corner of the larger tub she’d bought last week.

“I don’t date assholes,” she bites out and Mrs. Barnes grimaces. Haley immediately feels guilty and the apology tumbles out, but is overridden by the gentle shaking of the older woman’s head.

“You’re allowed to still be upset. That...wasn’t pretty.” Haley sighs, still frustrated, tucking hair behind her ears. They finish up her transaction and she’s sliding her two paper bags off of the counter when Mrs. Barnes called to her, eyes trained to something beyond the door. “You just...you be careful when you go out there.” Haley glances to the large window that the ATM obstructs, glimpses two of the guys still propped up against it. She already dreads having to inhale the putrid fumes of their cigarettes as she passes them.

“Have they been out there for long?” Mrs. Barnes nods.

“They were in here earlier,” she explains. “They think I don’t know that they’ve stolen, but I just didn’t feel like dealing with them over a few candy bars. Just be careful when you go out there and hurry home.” Haley nods and squares her shoulders. She offers another parting apology and exits the liquor store, grateful that the bags aren’t too heavy. She clutches at them, the crunching sound of the brown paper almost comforting, and she walks past the boys, making sure to keep her gaze straight ahead.

It does not keep her from shivering despite the warm evening that is beginning to turn into night, their eyes like knives on her back, not stabbing but the tip scraping over her flesh from the back of her head to the bottom of her feet, threatening and unwelcome.

“Hey, Yellow Shirt!” Haley does not look back nor acknowledge them, and fails to hide the way she flinches. She knows, without looking, that it is the redhead calling out to her. She keeps walking, steps quickening. “Yellow Shirt, I know you hear me calling you!”

Something cold settles in her bones when Haley hears the pitter-pattering and scuffling of shoes on the concrete. They are following her.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the redhead purs. Haley clutches her bags tighter. “Me and my friends just wanna help you carry those bags.”

“Sucks that that douchebag left you alone.” One of the others comments, this nasally voice that grates on Haley’s nerves, but she does not turn around. She keeps walking. She’s going to have to turn left and although a part of her wants to keep going straight, go another block because it’s much busier on this street than the one she has to turn on to, she also wants to take the quicker route back to Brooke and back to the safety of their home.

“Ummm...thanks,” she offers over her shoulder. “I’m fine. That’s...uh...really nice of you.” One of them laughs, she does not know which one, but it makes her skin crawl. Haley tries to walk a little faster, though she knows that any faster will be her running and she does not know if it will entice them to do the same. She turns the corner, praying like hell that they will get the memo and just leave her alone.

Of course, she’s not at all that lucky.

Haley barely makes it halfway down the side street when she feels a hand on her shoulder, turning around and gripping at her tightly. Her gasp comes out strangled; she had not even known when they’d jogged to catch up to her. Steel grey eyes peer down at her.

“Now, where are you headed off to in such a hurry, pretty lady?” He asks and Haley’s nose wrinkles at the smell of cigarettes on his breath, chocolate staining the already nauseating scent, its sweetness only making it worse. His buddies are at his shoulders, just behind him.

“Look, guys, I’m just trying to get home to my friend - ”

“We can be your friends,” the guy on his left insists. His voice thick with an Italian accent and Haley briefly ponders over his face, trying to recall if he was a waiter at the Italian restaurant Nathan had taken her to last fall. Briefly, she berates herself for not sucking it up and letting him walk her home.

“That’s really...nice of you,” she offers and the third guy with his platinum blonde hair and thickly-lined eyes, nose piercing glinting underneath the nearby street light, chuckles. The guy holding her bears down on her shoulder, clutching it tighter, fingertips digging so hard she can feel it in her bones and Haley winces.

She knows that doing anything right now when there is no one else around is stupid, but she wants to punch him. She can feel the spike of adrenaline in her veins and if it was just the two of them, she would punch him. She also knows that he’s not alone and that any sudden movements on her part will not be accepted by his partners, and her helplessness makes her shudder. “I’m just….I-I-I really just wanna get home…”

“Come on, guys,” another voice speaks up, gravel-rich and deep and Haley startles, half expecting for there to be a fourth person that she had not anticipated. The terror, though, is short-lived because over her captor’s shoulder she glimpses a familiar, handsome face.

Ikenasio stands just beyond the street light, but still clearly visible. He has his own brown paper bag clutched in the crook of one arm. His stance is relaxed as he approaches, long strides that emphasizes the length of his denim-clad legs. He is not wearing the black shirt from earlier, but a ribbed white tank top that shows off the definition in his muscled arms. They’re slightly bulkier than she had thought before and there’s some black ink on his shoulders, peeking out from the neckline of his tank.

“The little lady shouldn’t have to repeat herself.” His frame looks calm and his voice sounds the same, but his eyes, when he finally is close enough to see them, gleam dangerously, the brown-gold so much more distinct as he stares the boys down. Haley’s breath catches in her throat. The guy holding her turns to face him more and Haley tries to wiggle away, but he wraps his whole hand around her upper arm and squeezes. She hates how she whimpers.

“This ain’t got nothing to do with you, pretty boy,” he declares, “so, why don’t you just go on about your business and leave us to ours?” Nas doesn’t reply to him at first. He glances at her, spots the way she tries to pull away again, and then glances back at her captor, eyes turning into green slits.

“Can’t do that.” His voice seems to drop to an even lower pitch as he adds, a command if Haley has ever heard one, “Now. Let. Her. Go.” Haley’s pulse quickens and she doesn’t know what worries her more; the guys surrounding her, or the guy facing off with them. The Italian guy breaks off from the trio, approaching Nas. Haley has the distinct feeling that that is not a good move.

“I don’t think you understand, you piece of shit.” Haley watches Nas watching the guy as he grows nearer, eyes trained on him. Dread fills her. He points a finger as Nas, saying, “Get the fuck outta here or - ”

His threat will remain unfinished.

Nas’ right fist shoots out without warning, catching the guy unaware as the hook connects with a crunching sound that makes Haley wince. Spittle flies from the guy’s mouth and Haley is sure she sees at least one tooth fly as well. Nas doesn’t give the guy time to react; he follows it up with a forward elbow thrust that sends the guy crashing to the ground, unconscious.

The redhead holding her lets go, shoving her roughly. The sudden moves makes Haley drop her bags on a gasp. She doesn’t even have time to consider retrieving them and the items that spill out. The blonde is suddenly the one towering over her and the look in his eyes make her hackles rise.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He taunts.

Haley does what she has wanted to do since before Nas showed up. She draws her fist back and lands a punch right to the guy’s nose, making sure to put as much of her weight into it as she can, not retracting - just like Keith taught her - until she feels something give beneath her fist. There’s a twinge of discomfort in her hand - a potential hairline fracture, much like she’d gotten the two times Keith taught her how to punch - but she ignores it. The guy howls in pain, but she does not stop. Haley grasps a hold of his shoulders and hops once to drive a knee as hard as she can between his legs and he drops to his knees, hands clutching his jewels and whimpering.

“You...bitch…” He grounds out. Haley does not reply. It’s overkill, she knows, but instinctively she swings her left foot back and kicks the guy in the gut. He rolls onto his back with another pained sound. She glances upward, having heard the scuffling, to see her original captor slipping a knife out of his denim jacket. Ice shoots down her spine.

“Nas, look out!” She cries out.

Just in time, Nas also catches sight of the blade and spins out of the way, just barely missing the stabbing motion...or, at least Haley thought he’d missed it. Nas hisses and Haley watches as a line on his bicep wells up with blood. Eyes widening, she takes a step forward only to watch as Nas thrusts his elbow forward again, this time catching the black-haired guy in the throat. The guy chokes, head tipping backwards, and Nas grasps the armed hand with both hands, squeezes, and then lowers his knees to get the momentum he needs in order to hurl the guy over his shoulder.

The redhead lands on the concrete with a horrid thud, arm twisted uncomfortably in Nas’ grip, Haley notes. Nas does not give, though. He twists harder until there is a resounding pop that makes Haley’s hand rise to her mouth to stifle her cry. The blade finally clatters to the ground. The sound of the guy crying out makes Haley’s ears ring and she knows for a fact that she’ll be hearing it for the rest of the night.

It is at that point that Haley thinks that Nas will let the guy go, but he does not. She watches as Nas drops to straddle the guy and then punches him once, twice, and then keeps going, switching from one hand to the other. The shock of this brutality - this seeming loss of control - takes Haley’s breath away. It takes her longer than she realizes it should for her to put an end to it.

“Nas!” He doesn’t so much as falter, still punching the redhead. Her captor is no longer moving nor is he making a sound. Her heart slamming against her ribcage, Haley takes a step forward before hardening her voice, yelling out, “Ikenasio!”

Nas pauses mid-punch. The look he gives her makes her mouth go dry.

“Stop,” she tells him, surprised to find that she is shaking, but she does not know if it is out of fear of him or...well, she doesn’t know what the alternative is, but there is fear. Nas’ chest heaves with every large gulp of air he takes in. Haley spots something red and wet across his left knuckles. She softens her voice then, “He’s...I think he’s got the point.” Nas glances down at the guy he’s still pinning to the ground; the redhead’s head is turned to the side. Haley cannot tell if his chest is still moving. Faintly, she wonders what it says about her that she doesn’t have any empathy for him.

Nas doesn’t say anything for a long while. He takes his time getting back onto his feet, still peering down at his victim. Haley watches him with bated breath. He then begins to approach her. He takes a quick glance at the guy he initially knocked out, giving a disgusted sneer. Eventually, he moves to the one Haley has taken down who is still groaning and heaving out pathetic little hoarse whimpers that gives Haley far more satisfaction than she thinks they should.

“Don’t know who let you get away with it,” he spits, aggression in his clenched fists and fire in his eyes as he kneels down to the blonde. Watery eyes peer up at him and the blonde flinches, mascara streaking his pale cheeks. “But harassing women gets your ass handed to you. Remember this the next time you and your buddies wanna mess with someone.” Nas glares the guy down until the blonde averts his gaze.

Finally, Nas peers up at her from his crouched position and Haley wishes she could say something, but she’s trying to convince her body to stop trembling. Eyes still on her, Nas gathers her items and puts them back in their bags. Haley watches speechlessly. Then, he’s rising and his eyes scan her form, but Haley cannot focus on that, not when he’s standing tall and _towering_ over her. Her head barely comes over his chest. It makes her swallow.

“They hurt you?” She shakes her head, licking her dry lower lip and forcing her mouth to form words.

“No.” Nas nods before his gaze catches on something to her left, eyes softening.

“Your arm,” he explains, handling her bags until they’re both held against his chest with one arm, reaching out to her. Haley’s entire body freezes and so does his hand. She blinks, surprised to find her eyes wet.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. There’s a rumble that comes from the back of his throat and Haley’s eyes dart back up to his to see barely contained rage on his face. “It’s...it’s not you…”

“It’ll bruise.” She peers down at her arm and makes out the beginning outline of a hand. She goes back to wondering if she should feel bad about not having cared about the redhead’s current state, and that faint sense of guilt has her not acknowledging her bruising arm to glance past Ikenasio.

“Is he - ?”

“Still alive,” Nas finishes without her having to. Haley glances back at his face and spots a flash of hurt before its washed away by a hint of shame. “I wasn’t going to…” He falters, but when he speaks again, his voice cuts through the cold that still seems to cling to her bones, “He’ll be fine.” Haley’s only response is to nod. A few beats later and Nas sighs. “Listen...I’d get it if I kinda scared you - ”

“No.” The word comes out immediately and Haley glares at him, voice firm, her conviction resolute as she wills her body to calm down. “I-it was...there are a lot of things that I’m feeling right now, but I’m pretty sure the last thing is fear of you.” His brow seems to furrow in surprise, in confusion. It is the first time that Haley notices that there is a scar on his right eyebrow, cutting into the center of the thick hair. He doesn’t reply to that, doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Let’s get you home, alright?” She tilts her head curiously.

“Your bag…?”

“It’ll be here when I get back,” Nas assures her, hesitates, and then reaches out with that same hand from earlier to steer her in the direction she had initially been heading. “And if not, I know the store lady. She’ll let me replace it.” It won’t be until they’re back at the steps leading up to her apartment that Haley realizes that she had never noticed Nas in the store, that he’d been in the back of it the entire time.

The walk back is silent and without any more excitement, and by the time Haley reaches the stairs, the weight of what has transpired settles into her pores. Nas glances up at the stairs and the line of doors, and then peers at her.

“You live here alone?” He asks, worried. Haley finds it endearing.

“No, it’s actually Brooke’s apartment,” she explains. “Actually, it used to be Nathan’s, but…” The thought of the athlete makes Haley stop short and she shuts her eyes, shaking her head as she thinks back on their argument. When she opens her eyes, she’s just missed the storm that passes over Nas’. She groans. “I’m such an idiot for sending him away.”

“He’s the idiot for leaving in the first place.”

“I’m the one who told him to,” she insists. “If I had just sucked it up and - ”

“Don’t,” Nas orders her, voice firm, his grip tightening on the bags he refused to give her back during their walk. Haley locks eyes with him and is surprised by the almost far off look in his. “Don’t ever blame yourself. You didn’t ask for this.” She does not press upon the fact that it still stands to reason that a smarter person would have made a better decision. Instead, her eyes fall on his left arm and the blood she sees running down his arm. Her position had been on his right before, so she hadn’t spotted it earlier.

“You’re still bleeding!” Nas merely glances at it, makes a face, and then shrugs.

“I’ve had worse,” he tells her and Haley shudders at his flippance.

“Still, you shouldn’t just let that sit without wrapping it,” she complains, grasping a hold of his arm and twisting it lightly to get a better view of the cut. It doesn’t look too deep; it has not touched muscle, thankfully. But it still makes something inside her twist up. “I think we should have something in the medicine cabinet if you wanna come up…”

“Haley.” It’s the way he says her name that gives her pause; his voice is still softer somehow and there’s so much meaning surrounding the two syllables that Haley cannot break away from the eye contact even if she wants to. He stares down at her, something undecipherable in his gaze and says, “I’ve had worse.”

Speechless, Haley’s gaze flits back to that scar on his right eyebrow, on the way that she has noticed that though his nose is fine and fits his face, there is a sort of bump to the bridge of it that is just barely visible. It makes her wonder if he was born like that or if his words pertain to that, if there are other scars that mar his bronze skin and how many he had to acquire before he began to see them as consequential.

“Just...just promise me that you’ll take care of it.” The left corner of his mouth twitches and, satisfied, Haley hopes her face is as threatening as can be, though she knows the small smile forming on her own lessens it. “I’m so serious. I will check you for bandages tomorrow at school. Don’t think that I won’t.”

“I’m sure you will, little lady.” Haley blushes.

“And thank you,” she finally says. “I honestly don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t followed me out of the store.” A cloud descends upon Nas’ visage and he glowers.

“Don’t mention it. If you feel like going to the store when it gets dark outside, get my number from Lucas. I’ll walk with you.” Haley immediately shakes her head.

“I don’t wanna - ”

“I live nearby,” he interrupts her and he narrows his eyes at her. “Promise me.” Haley rolls her eyes, trying to shake off that pleased little thrill that rushes through her despite what was going to be stubbornness.

“I promise.” Nas watches her. She thinks he’s trying to see if she’s lying to him, so Haley paints on a wider smile. His mouth twitches again and Nas hands her her bags, carefully making sure she has a sure grip on both. Haley smirks. “You’re gonna stand vigilant and keep off the bad guys until I close the door, aren’t you?” At this, Nas’ lips stretch out into a grin that brightens up his entire face. Haley’s heart stutters.

“Yep.”

She’s sure she looks a mess, a bruise forming on her arm, a tear in one of the bags Nas had managed to keep from her, and a silly little grin clear as day on her face.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucas is already gone, home and still upset about what has transpired with the promise of words for Nathan on his lips after he’s dropped her back home. They’ve rushed over to the roof and placed their wishlist for the year behind their brick, and Haley is back on her makeshift bed. Brooke has offered her a spot in her bed and Haley’s grateful, but restlessness surges in her veins until she’s flopped onto her back, whispering an apology to a disgruntled Brooke.

It takes her a half an hour before she has the recorder on, her guitar in her hands, and Haley tosses her head back, hair cascading down her back in an untamed wave of honey blonde. She sighs.

“Okay, Chris, I thought I wasn’t going to look back on this one and I’m not really sure what to do with it, but I figured if I sing it out, maybe we can do something with it,” she declares, fingers plucking at the strings mindlessly. The bedroom door muffles the volume, so Haley knows she won’t disturb Brooke too much. She’ll just have to hope he forgives her for the almost raspy dulcet tones she can offer him at this time of the night. “Here goes.” She begins to strum the guitar, nodding her head to the melody she’d thought of weeks ago and had told herself it wasn’t good enough, wetting her lips before beginning to sing:

_When I was younger,_

_I told my mother,_

_I said, one day I’m gonna make you proud._

_Now that I’m older,_

_It’s so much harder_

_To say those words out loud._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own no rights to When I was Younger by Liz Lawrence.


	3. Smells Like Teen Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Haley loses her cool, Nas shows a much more playful side than she anticipated him having, and she should probably be more chiding than amused....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan's a bit of a dick in this one, sorry not sorry. But then again, he's not influenced by Haley as his significant other but as a friend, so I think that difference would be notable when you take in her abrupt departure...and feelings, but we'll get to that. 
> 
> Anyway, I love Nathan and this story won't demonize him, but he's not exactly gonna be a favorite for a bit.

No one has really begun to take school seriously yet and for that, Haley is grateful. Even with the satisfaction that came with sending off a song to Chris, complete with her own vocals, sleep eluded her for the majority of the night. She had drifted on and off, eyelids heavy over reddened, sleep-deprived eyes that Brooke had not been capable of ignoring. Haley had even considered not showing up; she’d spent the last few weeks before school playing catch up so that she would not feel so far behind everyone else. She deserves to skip. 

However, there are bags under her eyes Brooke has already fussed over and she is leaving her second class of the day, wondering how much she’s going to care about missing third period. She’s already given one person their shock for the day; she’d emerged from the bathroom in a long-sleeved wrap top that hugs her upper body tightly and stops just above her belly button. Brooke’s eyes still bug out whenever she sees Haley in it, approval even more evident when her roommate sees the slivers of skin from the slitted sleeves.

Haley does not wear the shirt and high-waisted jeans to look cute; she is tired, she has not folded up the clothes she has washed, and its stretchy material makes it the least wrinkled clothing item in her arsenal. Haley has the hair that frames her face tied to the back of her head after getting frustrated with the soft mass atop her head. She is testy and irritable, and there is an itch beneath her skin, something that claws and scratches at her from the inside up as it struggles to the surface. She still feels the bruise her shirt is hiding that fans over her shoulder and upper arm, still hears the pop of Nas dislocating the redhead’s shoulder, the cry the boy emitted loud and hard to ignore in the back of her mind. She cannot concentrate for anything and she mourns the coffee she left in the pot in her rush to not be late for school. 

Which is why she’s not surprised when her patience runs out with the whispering, willowy girls on the other side of the hallway who alternate between speaking lowly to one another, and then watching her.

Haley slams her locker shut, startling the lip-locked pair on her right and she slowly turns around to catch the tall blonde eyeing her. The girl raises an eyebrow in challenge and Haley’s eyes narrow. 

“Is there a problem?” The girl shrugs and Haley hates how she peers down her nose at Haley. 

“No,” she tells her, “just wondering if you were done trying to be the next Kelly Clarkson.” Haley smirks.

“Not at all, but I can always introduce you to my Kelly Clark-fists since we both know you’ll never meet the original.” She retorts, gaze shifting from the blonde who has the audacity to look excited and the raven-haired one who shifts uneasily. Her lips stretch out into a mirthless grin as she adds, “I seem to have misplaced my pen, so you’ll have to take the black eye as my signature.” The blonde is the one who steps forward, sneering down at her. 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Come and find out.” Now that they’re closer, Haley can see that the girl’s roots are much, much darker than the ends and it’s an unflattering look. She almost wonders if she can scrounge up a Brooke-esque insult that’ll cut deep enough to leave a mark. 

“Hey, back off!” Movement is on her periphery and Haley knows that they’re in a hall still occupied by several classmates, some of whom have stopped to watch the show. But it still surprises her when long limbs wave at the space between herself and the blonde she’s already decided she wants to punch. It’s even more surprising when she realizes that those arms belong to Peyton. 

“Back off, Peyton,” the other blonde tells the artist, turning back to Haley when she says, “I’m trying to teach Avril Lavigne’s stepchild a lesson.” Haley drops her textbooks and backpack.

“Oh no, you better hope Peyton stops  _ me _ before I  _ step _ on somebody’s child!” She shoots back. 

All it takes is one dainty shove Haley hopes the other girl didn’t think was going to hurt her, for Haley to lash out, catching the girl’s face with a swinging fist. There’s pandemonium; there’s a roaring in her ears as students cheer and she can hear the girl’s friend’s cries as she tries to pull them apart. She feels thin arms wrap around her waist and it takes a second too long for her to realize that Peyton’s gone from trying to keep them away from each other to focusing her energy on pulling Haley away. Which would be fine if the raven-haired girl had not stopped pulling at her friend, who is now hitting at Haley, and leaving Haley to defend herself. 

“Get off of me,” she snaps at Peyton, nails catching on her opponent’s skin. There’s a hiss of pain and Haley hopes she got her face. 

“I’m trying to stop you.” Is Peyton’s hissed response and Haley growls.

“And now she’s hitting  _ me _ !” 

The blonde charges at them both out of nowhere and Peyton’s back clearly slams into the locker, and she lets out a cry of shock and pain. That makes Haley  _ mad _ , even as she winds up sliding to the floor and onto her back, the tall fake-blonde seated atop her and trying to pin her hands down. Haley bucks up and grasps at the thin hair, yanking with all of her might. The girl screams and Haley uses the moment of weakness to propel the girl sideways, rolling them over until Haley is the one on top. She doesn’t release her grip on the girl’s hair, but uses her other hand to swing at her again. 

Her swing never lands. 

In fact, her swing meets air and Haley’s in the air, and there’s an immovable log pressing into her abdomen, keeping her suspended and secure against something warm and firm. She thrashes anyway, feet kicking in the air for a few seconds as she tries to get to the girl. 

“Let me down!” She cries. She feels a rumble behind her chest and the thick arm around her waist shifts only slightly to better accommodate her wriggling. She knows for a fact that she’s not going anywhere.

“Not a chance, little lady,” he mutters into her hair and despite her anger, despite how Haley very much wants to swing at that bitch - at  _ anyone _ \- she cannot suppress the shiver that races down her spine at the warm puffs at air that grazes the back of her neck.

“ENOUGH!” Coach Durham’s voice booms down the hallway and the silence that follows is deafening. Haley halts all movement and it takes the look in Whitey’s eyes - the disappointed shock - for her to realize how far gone she is. Her body grows limp in the hold Nas has her in still. “What in the hell is going on out here?” 

“Paramore over here started it!” The fake-blonde insisted, staggering to her feet as she tries to get to Haley. Both Peyton and the girl’s raven-haired friend stop her. Haley attempts to jump down from Nas’ arms, but he is a brick wall that she finds herself pinned against, unable to do anything more than kick her legs out again. One of her feet does manage to catch Peyton on the side of the head when the blonde artist moves in front of the rude blonde, trying to push her back. Her head jerks and Haley’s hands fly to her mouth, eyes wide.

“Ow!” Peyton cries, clutching her head. She shoots a glare at Haley. “Fuck, Haley!” Haley winces.

“Oh my God, Peyton, I’m  _ so _ sorry!” The music lover’s glare doesn’t lessen any and remorse sinks bone-deep into Haley’s form and she loses all of the energy her body had been so ready to expel. 

“Detention, all of you!” Whitey grounds out and utter turmoil fills her, blocking out the indignant cries of outrage and disbelief from the three girls. Whitey does not acknowledge their little group; his eyes flit over to the rest of the students in the hallway, the ones who hadn’t immediately cleared away when he exited his office. “Off to class, the rest of you before I give you detention too.” They scurry off, at that. Nas seems to take that as his cue to slowly lower Haley to the ground. His hold does not disappear until Haley rights herself, even though she feels like sinking to the floor in mortification at what has just happened. 

Haley has not been in many or...well, any real fights. She does not make detention a daily habit, either. In fact, she can count on one hand the number of times she’s been in attendance and the fact that this will only be her second in the four years she has attended Tree Hill High makes her burn with shame. She should have skipped school. She should have rationalized that she was in a bad mindspace. She could have easily called Karen to get a notice to the principal, explaining what happened yesterday. 

They would have called it stress or her dealing with the trauma of the night before. They would have made whatever excuse was necessary because she had had one. This? There was no excuse for this, and now, both Ikenasio and Peyton are being punished for her lack of control. She had told Nathan that she couldn’t be whoever it was that he wanted her to be.  _ But who have I become? _ She wonders. She glimpses Whitey giving the other girl a scathing look as she complains about being attacked. There’s a twinge of fight still in her, ready to yank her hair again for lying. But Haley focuses on turning pleading eyes Whitey’s way.

“Whitey, please,” she implores. “Peyton and Nas were only trying to help.” She does not care about the unnamed raven-haired girl. If she had wanted to help, she would have tried to be more discreet in talking about Haley. She would have told her friend to back off and walk away. Coach Durham’s continued disappointment makes Haley shrink back.

“Then you can all help each other to be on time. In detention.” The fake-blonde sucks her teeth. 

“That’s so not fair!” The old man’s eyes narrow.

“Do I hear two-day detention?” No one says anything at that point. Whitey runs gimlet blue eyes over each of the five students and then his lip curls, skin reddened and distaste clear as day on his pudgy face. “Now, get to class or it’s suicides for everyone.”

Haley winces when the door to the office slams behind him. She shuts her eyes on a deep breath, opening them when she hears one of the girls make a noise. Her eyes open to see it’s the blonde she’d been fighting and the girl has the audacity to glare at Haley, grab her friend and then storm down the hallway opposite of Haley, making sure to bump her along the way. Haley staggers before whirling around, stopping herself short, inhaling sharply through her nose and clenching her fists. 

“Well, there was my excitement for the day,” Peyton notes dully and Haley glances at the blonde. She’s still rubbing the sore spot on the side of her head. Haley grimaces, though she notes Peyton’s glare is not as sharp as it had been a few minutes ago. In fact, it’s the least bit intimidating look the artist has given Haley since her return and it's a balm for her already frayed nerves. 

“Again, Peyton, I am so sorry.” Peyton stares at her for just a quick second before shrugging.

“My fault for jumping in,” she reasons. Chuckling a little, she salutes Haley, “Just warn me next time you decide to go all Debra Marshall on me.” Haley chokes out a laugh that makes Peyton’s face light up briefly. Nodding to Haley one more time, the blonde departs the same way the other two girls have gone and Haley sighs, head dropping back. 

“I cannot believe I just did that.” She bemoans and covers her face with her hands. There are steps that bounce off of the terrazzo tile flooring and if it wasn’t just a touch too far away, Haley would have assumed that it was Ikenasio moving away. She peeks out from her fingers only to see Nathan strolling down the hall, a mocking smile on his face. She already dislikes whatever he’s about to say. 

“Maybe you can convince SmackDown to do a tour next,” he offers snidely and Haley huffs in annoyance at his departing back. Haley frowns as he disappears around the corner; she knows that it’s a bad thought, but she genuinely wants to punch him and wonders how many days of detention she’ll get for doing it. 

“He’s a dick.” The comment is stated gruffly and Haley snorts, eyes still on the corner Nathan has vacated.

“Tell me about it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lucas does not believe that she’s been in a fight and Haley cannot tell if she loves him for having faith in her goodness, or if his disbelief makes her even more embarrassed by what has transpired today. 

“I just wanna be clear that we are talking about the same Haley James here,” Lucas states and Haley groans, lower lip jutting out in a put out look that makes Brooke giggle. 

“The one and the same, last I heard.” Lucas’ pitying stare makes her bury herself under the arm he has around her shoulders, letting her sink into the comforting blanket of warmth that comes from the Tide Karen uses for all of their laundry, the earthy freshness from the soap Lucas washes with - the smell of her best friend. He gives her a light squeeze, rubbing at her arm soothingly. Brooke smiles brightly at her. “Oh come on, Tutor Girl. This is the stuff of legends.” 

“Brooke, I don’t want my future grandkids to know that I lost my temper because a few mean girls said something I didn’t like.” Brooke huffs. 

“I do,” she tells her. “I’d love for my grandchildren to know that not only was their grandma a total babe, but that she was a badass as well.” Haley shorts into Lucas’ shirt, peering up at him to see him chuckling at Brooke’s words. “I’m so serious, Haley! Everyone’s been talking about it all day.”

“Don’t remind me,” Haley groans. 

They’re emerging from lunch in the outer courtyard. If Haley had disliked the stares before, she dislikes them now. At least before, the attention warranted a touch of pride. She’s a singer - a rockstar, even if she occasionally cringes at the title - and even though she likes to think she’s the same Haley James half of these kids didn’t know last year, being known now does warrant a little pleasure, even if she only admits it to herself. Now, particularly because the attention is a direct response to Haley losing her cool, there’s no pleasure to be found in it. 

She’s spent the majority of lunch fixating on their table, eyes trained on her food. Brooke, as always, does not sit with them for the majority of it and goes off to the cheerleaders. When she returns, she is even more ecstatic about the dramatization of Tara - and yes, Haley finally knows the name of her newfound enemy - recounting the fight. Apparently, Tara has told everybody that Haley swung first and that Haley was talking about her, so now there are about four different versions of the story running rampant through the halls. 

Skipping still sounds like the preferable move. 

Haley did not fail to notice that Nas was not present at lunch and when she asked Lucas, he shot her that same peculiar, considering stare before admitting that Nas said he had something that he needed to do, and that he wasn’t that hungry. Haley hid her disappointment behind a bite of her sandwich.

“Well, at least we only have two classes left,” Lucas reminds her and Haley peeks up at his still amused face, her pout returning full force. Her best friend only kisses the top of her head. She hears Brooke snicker.

“Oh. My. God.” The brunette exclaims. Haley glances forward and her eyes widen. 

Nathan has emerged from the boys’ locker room clad only in a towel. On another day, she’d be confronted with girls cooing over the display of washboard abs and shower-flushed light skin. It is probably still a tantalizing sight to most of them and Haley cannot deny the attractiveness; she’d be in denial if she does. 

But what makes the breath catch in her throat is not the towel that is wrapped precariously around his trim hips, his hand fisting into the knot he’s formed to keep them up. It’s not in the slicked back hair with the beads of water dripping down his fit body. No, Haley’s eyes are drawn to the fact that blue paint covers Nathan’s face, neck, and upper torso as if it’s been splashed onto him. Some of it drips down his torso in blue rivulets, tainting the pristine white of his towel. There is paint on the top of his head, dripping down his shoulders and dropping onto the floor around him. Snickers light up the once bustling hallway, all movement halted in the face of this display until someone yells:

“Way to show your team spirit, Scott!” Then there is nothing but outright laughter. Haley stifles hers by cupping her mouth with her hand. Brooke is not nearly as nice for she guffaws quite loudly, hazel eyes bright with mirth. Lucas snorts in his attempt to hide his laughter. Fury lights up Nathan’s entire being.

“Which one of you assholes decided to be funny?” He demands. No one owns up to it. Haley glimpses all the amused faces and though she will think on this with laughter when she’s not staring Nathan’s embarrassment down, she peeks up at Lucas. She knows that Lucas and Nathan aren’t on good terms, but she pushes at him gently. He sighs. 

“Alright, guys!” He calls and releases Haley to move through the interested crowd, shooing people back and away from his enraged younger brother. “Break it up, break it up. Nothing to see here.” Of course, at this point, it shouldn’t surprise Haley that the commotion has reached Whitey.

“Nathan Scott!” 

People really move then and Brooke tugs at Haley to get out of Whitey’s line of sight before he decides she’s looking to be in more trouble. Haley only faintly registers going along with it, though neither of them vacate the hall entirely. In fact, the majority of the student population doesn’t actually leave either, too curious and interested for their own good. 

Whitey observes Nathan with a scrunched up, reddened face and Haley stifles a giggle at the pink that begins to form in Nathan’s skin. Whitey glances about all of those still present, all sharp-eyed judgement and incredulity. Obviously not getting what he wants, Coach Durham whirls on Nathan who tenses. “Detention, Scott.” Nathan’s face twists in disbelief. 

“For what?”

“For…” Whitey seems to hesitate then, makes a face that has Brooke barely containing her laughter, the brunette squeezing at Haley’s arm like it is a lifeline, and then sputters out, “...for public indecency. Do us all a favor and put some clothes on this instant, boy.” Whitey glares at everyone in the hallway one last time before saying, “And if I have to tell any of you one more time, we’re all having a school-wide detention in the gymnasium. Get!” 

They all get, as ordered - they’d be stupid not to - but it is only after the hallway has erupted into snickers and breathy laughs again. Haley only feels just a little bit bad. 

A lot of bit justified for it. 

 

* * *

 

 

Whitey has permitted everyone to talk, which means that for those who are in groups or pairs, it’s easier for them to wander to each other’s company, speaking in hushed tones. Haley doesn’t think that this is a regular occurence, especially after the incredulous look Peyton tosses the older man, but the blonde doesn’t argue it and Haley’s definitely not going to argue it. 

The quiet voices, even if two belong to the two girls Haley got into an altercation with earlier, are enough of a background noise that Haley can finish up the very last of her makeup work from the semester before, a pleased smile forming on her lips when she’s done. Nathan, who sits to her right, pretends to not peer over curiously. 

“Yes, Nathan?” She asks, already dreading having acknowledged him. 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t say anything for a few beats and Haley knows better than to expect him to be silent, since Nathan is proving to have reverted to the snide dick he was this time last year.  _ Or maybe he never really stopped _ , she thinks thereafter,  _ maybe I just didn’t want to see it because he was different with me. _ Haley isn’t given time to ponder over the musing because as she has known he would, Nathan pipes up again, “Just wondering if any of that hard work’ll matter the next time a band rides through. Might not even make it to graduation if they offer you another tour.” 

Haley glares at him, but before she can open her mouth to say a word, Peyton chimes in, managing to whisper low enough that they were the only ones who heard, “At least that looks better on your resume than getting your ass handed to you by a silent prankster.” Naturally, though, her retort wasn’t as quiet as Haley thought because half of the students in detention snicker quite loudly, drawing Whitey’ attention from his reading. 

They all fall silent at his imposing stare, and Haley gnaws at her lower lip, anxious awaiting the second that Whitey returns to his book. Eventually, he does and she giggles quietly into her paperwork, glancing up at the seat Peyton occupies in front of Nathan to see the blonde staring right back at her. 

The second the artist spots Haley’s eyes, her mirth-filled expression falls away to something blank that makes Haley falter. But then Peyton’s lips curve just so, a hint of something warm in her green gaze, and then she’s glancing at Nathan, who glares at her straight on. Peyton pulls a face that makes Haley chortle, garnering Whitey’s attention only briefly, before turning around in her seat to focus on whatever it is that she is drawing. Haley knows Peyton enough to know that the once curly-haired blonde is not using this time to focus on any kind of homework. 

Haley knows she should leave it alone and she honestly plans to, but then she’s glancing at Nathan and then leaning over towards the athlete, gaining his suspicious stare. “Also, instead of worrying about me and mine, you should be hoping you got all that paint off of you,” she whispers with a sweet smile, grazing the side of her throat gently, fingertips under her ear as she adds, “I think you missed a spot, Mystique.”

Nathan mimics her movements, but when his fingers come away they are smeared with a little bit of paint. He glowers at her then and Haley’s smile only grows serene, which makes him huff and look away, glaring a hole in his desk instead of reaching into his backpack to pull out something else to occupy his time with. Grinning to herself at his display of petulance, Haley is briefly surprised by the rumble of sound behind her, though she recognizes his presence almost immediately by the shiver down her spine that follows Nas’ chuckle. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” she comments quietly when she turns around in her seat to glimpse Nas quietly chuckling to himself, twirling a sharpened pencil in his right hand. There is an open calculus textbook on his desk and a worksheet that sits atop it, at least three of the problems finished. 

“Almost like I was told to be here.” Is his casual retort and Haley winces. She’s not let the eventuality of her detention sentence plague her for the entirety of the day; class has been a decent enough distraction. But now confronted with it, she’s also confronted with the guilt of having forced two innocent people into it with her. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him. “I’ve been meaning to say it, but I really didn’t mean to get you mixed all up in this with me…” Nas waves off her concern with a flick of his wrist and it is only then that Haley realizes that there is a tattoo on his left forearm. 

“Would’ve found my way here eventually.” Haley doesn’t know how she feels entirely about the casual way Nas makes the declaration, this shrug of his shoulders that do not at all match the dark look that crosses his face. “At least it’s for a worthy cause.” Haley snorts. 

“I don’t know if I’d call it worthy.” She says and the face she makes, bright with the laughter in her eyes, includes a slight wrinkle of her nose Haley hates when Lucas points out. “Honestly, I’d hate what you might think of me. It’s like, the second time you’ve seen me in a bad spot.”

“Not anything bad,” Nas reassures her after a beat. “Maybe a little wild.” Haley’s giggle is louder than she means for it to be and she whirls around in her seat to see Whitey’s eyes fixed on her. A smile briefly touches her lips as if to temper him. It works because Whitey grumbles to himself quietly, softening, and then lowers his gaze. Haley turns back around carefully, noting Nathan glancing at her from the corner of her eye. 

“I think wild is the last thing anyone in Tree Hill would ever call Haley James.” Nas seems to consider that for a moment, eyes lowered to his homework that Haley knows she herself will have to complete before the night is over. Then those beautiful greens flick upwards, meeting her stare head on. 

“Then maybe none of them ever really knew you,” he says. Haley’s heart flutters and she feels her cheeks going pink from the intensity of his gaze. She ducks her head a little, taking her lower lip in her teeth as she looks away. A beat later and her eyes fall onto his left forearm. 

“What’s this?” Haley’s hand immediately raises to touch, but then she falters. She glances up at Nas’ amused face and fights the urge to stick her tongue out. 

“Go ahead and touch,” he tells her and hesitantly, though she knows that the skin shouldn’t be raised at all if the artist responsible was any good, grazes the dark design with her fingertips, marveling at the warmth that he exudes, the softness of his skin that contrasts with the light splattering of thin, indiscernible hair that covers his forearm. 

Tapered to the wrist, the design spans the entirety of his forearm, reaching just slightly above his elbow. Haley wonders how she had not seen it yesterday, but then she has to remind herself - with a blush - that there had been more pressing matters to attend to, like his eyes. Bold and in black, Haley’s eyes trail over the geometrical shapes and the sharp precision of the artist’s hand, the layers interweave and overlap to form complex patterns, complete with surprising twists and sharp, sometimes faintly curved edges that capture her attention. 

“My brother got it for me when I was fifteen,” Nas shares after a while, answering the question in her gaze without Haley’s mouth having to fall open. His right hand comes over to point at the triangular shapes. “These are supposed to be shark teeth and the softer lines are like the ocean.”

Haley sees that now, the representation of the ebbing and flowing nature of the seas, the constant fluctuations between the calmness and restlessness that direct the ever-changing mood of the untameable waters. The tattoo already flowed beautifully, but now that he pointed out the specifics, she’s even more enraptured. He points out the spears, the way they wrap like a band around his arm before the layer above it tapers off into a diagonal mesh of jagged shark teeth and thick black lines. “My mom was Hawaiian and Tongan,” Nas admits. “I don’t remember Honolulu much, but I do remember how much she loved it, so I loved it.” Haley looks up to spot the soft look in his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips gently.

“What happened to her?” 

“She died.” The response is curt, jarring, and Haley’s mouth drops open. Nas’ expression, which had been open in his explanation, shutters shut and Haley frowns. She is unprepared for the way her heart nearly bangs against her ribcage, as if protesting his sad. 

“Oh, Nas, I’m so sorry,” she tells him. Nas seemed to shake it off, though his arm is tense under her hand. 

“It’s fine.” 

Haley doesn’t believe that, but she knows he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. So, she runs her finger over the design again, feeling his arm shake beneath her touch before asking, “What does it mean?”

“What?”

“The tattoo,” she says, dragging her gaze from it to him.

“Strength and protection.” 

“And your name?” Haley likes the meaning of it, likes how it fits him and she’s sure the smile on her face suggests it. Her smile widens upon his reply, though whether it’s because of the almost soft look that returns to his face or his words, she’ll never know:

“Fiery one,” he says before smirking. Haley also likes the look of it, this crooked thing that takes away a bit of the shadow that grief seemed to form around him. He chuckles to himself before adding, “Though I’m starting to think that it fits you just a little bit more.” Haley giggles, blush faint as she turns his arm over to see his inner wrist only to falter. 

The stain of blue is bright and poignant in comparison to his deep olive complexion, located just below where the lighter skin of his palm blends into his wrist. It is barely a dab, slightly smeared from either him trying to rub it at it at some point before coming to this classroom or due to being rubbed against a fabric. But it is notable in contrast to his skin, to the pitch-black ink that covers his arm. Haley’s eyes shoot up to meet Ikenasio’s and there is a wicked gleam in his eyes that has her grinning despite herself. 

“Where were you earlier?” She questions, lowering her voice even more, even though they both seem to know the answer. That quirk of his mouth is still present and he averts his gaze for just a second. 

“Here and there.” Haley giggles, the sound breathy and bubbling out of her. She flips his arm back over, letting him pull away from her touch. Faintly, she has to tell herself to get it together, to ignore the almost hollow feeling that comes when they are no longer touching. 

“How did you…?” Haley trails off, glancing at Nathan who seems lost in his thoughts, before turning her gaze back to Ikenasio’s very amused one. “Why?” The next questions falls from her lips breathlessly, genuine wonder on her face. Nas seems to think on it for a brief moment before closing his textbook entirely.

“You might be used to assholes,” he drawls, eyes flitting over to the back of Nathan’s head. 

It’s as if his stare warrants the athlete’s attention because Nathan startles as if he’s heard them, glances at Haley who ducks her head almost immediately, and then narrows his eyes at them, at the way Haley’s turned almost entirely away from Nathan to face Nas more in her restricted seat. Haley watches the two males, their gazes never wavering from one another. Then Nathan seems to scowl and look away and Nas chuckles lowly to himself, garnering her full attention once more. 

“He was a dick for kicking you when you were down,” he whispers and Haley fights the shiver that creeps down her spine at the gentle baritone of his voice, the intensity that has returned to his gaze as he peers deep into her eyes. “And you deserved better than that.”

Haley doesn’t have time to say a word, though her tongue probably would have remained useless even if she tried for Whitey suddenly announces that they can all leave. Everyone else scrambles to their feet, shoving books and papers into backpacks and practically stumbling over one another to get out the door. 

Haley watches Nas’ whose gaze remains on her as he slides his backpack over his shoulder and tucks his textbook into the crook of his arm. Her eyes follow him until he’s out the door and only then does she move, but it is only to turn around in the seat she doesn’t have to remain in, heart fluttering and stomach filling with warmth, lips threatening to stretch across her face without her permission. 

She does not notice Nathan watching her, peering at the space in the door that Nas just crossed through and back at her, face unreadable.

**Author's Note:**

> @FeralG4, I know you initially said that there should have been hugging between the boys and all that, but then Haley decided that she was the main POV and then...well then this happened, srry. 
> 
> *ducks behind Nas*
> 
> Also, for those of you who need a visual, check out this smexy pic of a younger Jason Momoa, who is the inspiration behind Ikenasio Amasio-Douglas.
> 
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/72/4a/eb/724aebdb9974afb3841792c67bededd1.jpg


End file.
